Keep This Dream Alive
by 12VelvetWhispers
Summary: "He felt tears press their way to the corners of his crimson eyes at the reminder of all the times he had roused from dreams so similar to this one..." - Written for the September Reader Appreciation Fanart Challenge on Y-gal!


Title: Keep This Dream Alive

Fandom: No. 6

Pairing: Nezumi/Shion

Rating: MA for language and sexual situations

* * *

The vibrations from the train were erratic and unpredictable – a welcome distraction from the unbridled thoughts undulating about in the snowy-haired teen's mind as he took his seat on the icy, dented metal of the un-cushioned benches beneath one of the many windows of the tunnel car. He chose this particular spot so that he might lean his head back against the narrow strip of grey, sheetrock wall that acted as the sturdy frame for the two large windows behind him, his eyes lidding heavily against exhaustion as he watched the glow of the setting sun cast shadows and shifting light patterns against the seats across from him.

He was headed to his apartment in one of the rebuilt sectors of the town; it was small and meager in indulgences, but it was a tiny portion of home nonetheless, and Shion was content with that reality. He had a place to eat, sleep, shower, read, and enough space to have his mother over when she decided to visit from her own household in the center of town. _Yes_, he decided silently, _it'll definitely suffice_.

Removing his chilly fingers from the deep pockets of his taupe, woolen duffle-coat, he moved to unclasp the four russet toggles, followed by the topmost pair of buttons on his white dress-shirt, sliding to a careless slouch deeper into the uncomfortable bench seat as he ran the other hand through messy, damp white locks. Resting his palms on the knees of his dark brown trousers, he knocked his crown back against the aged wall with a resounding '_thunk'_, a dull throb stemming from the harsh contact.

Indeed, his apartment would suffice for the basic elements required to sustain life and able him to prepare for his more long-term endeavors – namely the caretaking of a nearly 10-month-old baby boy who had taken up residence in a special spot within his heart. With the aid of his mother and Inukashi, Shion had managed to create a comfortable household for himself and the child, allowing him to work part-time at an Ecology lab downtown without needing to worry that the child was looked after.

He smiled softly as he envisioned the now commonplace image of his return home in the afternoons, his mother bouncing the giggling child on her hip as he made his way up the steep stairwell to his unit. When he made it to the door, she would hand off the enthusiastic child to him – tiny, grubby fists grasping at the waves of white that hung about his ears as a wet kiss would be pressed to his chilly, yet smiling cheek in greeting.

Those were just a few of the instants that Shion could count as moments that made his life worth living – even in the lonely, rough times when all he wanted was for a certain _someone_ to sneak his way back into the picture…

Shaking a few droplets of rain from his silvery locks, he allowed a drained sigh to slip from his lips, his lids sliding closed as his head tilted to the right, sleep tugging at the backs of his eyes at the pull. As his head wobbled slightly, his neck slack with fatigue, he felt himself slipping under, the steady pressure of the grimy wall against his nape and crown the only thing that kept him semi-conscious.

There was a trivial prickling at his ankles, just before a dainty weight dropped onto his left knee, tiny feet shifting against the worn threading of his pant-leg. As his lids slipped shut, he noticed the tiny body of a slender grey rat, snickering about on his scrawny thigh. But before he could question the familiar rodent, he lost the battle against the exhaustion, the light fading from his eyelids as he surrendered to the tug of slumber.

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the warmth surrounding his neck and shoulders – a sharp contrast to the present chill in his uncovered fingers between his knobby knees as they flicked against the worn polyester of his pant legs. His brow furrowed deeply against the tingling numbness about his forehead and right cheek as a new pressure he vaguely recalled appearing at some point during his snooze remained.

As his eyes began to creep open slowly, blinking the fog from his vision, he noticed the blur of Prussian blue just at the lowest of his line of sight, hurtling his still muddled mind into a fit of utter confusion. He shifted his chin just faintly downward, feeling his cheek pull away from a hot, yet velvety surface, the friction tacky from the confined warmth of his temple generating a fine film of perspiration that fashioned an uncomfortably warm exterior.

Just as he sensed himself lift away from the makeshift pillow, he felt a soft weight come to rest against the opposite side of his face, pressing it back against the previous support. Just as he thought to protest, all resistance disappeared as nimble fingers began to card through snowy hair in a manner that was so familiar he felt a burning tug at his already aching heart.

He was so acquainted with that touch that it tangibly wounded him to consider that this was all just some delusion from which he would soon wake back to the vacant subway car in the middle of a midwinter snow flurry. He felt tears press their way to the corners of his crimson eyes at the reminder of all the times he had roused from dreams so similar to this one, alone in his bed, on his couch, or even in this same seat on the vacant subway car – and he almost thought he saw a few indulgent strands of midnight hair fluttering haphazardly at the edges of his sight.

So he squeezed those eyes tightly shut, pretending that he wasn't about to wake up – enjoying the feel of those practiced fingers coasting through his thick silvery hair, the scent of the soft, musky pine that could only be associated with one person in his _entire_ world, the heat of a familiar body pressed flush against his right side in an unwavering support for his fatigued form.

* * *

When next his eyes fluttered open, the scenery from before had disappeared, leaving a comfortably dim ambience about his weary body. His lids were rather heavy, burning slightly at the edges from fatigue and temperature as he fought to completely regain awareness, knowing that something was not as it typically should be.

He perceived that he was in his bedroom, his familiar dreary grey comforter wrapped loosely about his form, drapes pulled shut to keep out the offensive evening glow – the only light a faint glimmer of an oil lamp on his writing desk across the tiny chamber. Someone had obviously moved him from the train car to his apartment, and a shifting of shadows near the doorway alerted him to a blunt fact.

He was not alone…

His heart began to race as his mind spun in circles, unsure of anything at the present moment, steeling himself for an attack. But before he could rise to panic, he felt a cool weight press against his forehead, long, lean fingers coming to rest soothingly along his brow in a gentle manner that assured Shion that this was not some malevolent intruder. Then he felt that someone bending down, raven hair tickling at his neck as a tender voice whispered quietly into his ear.

"You're hot. You have a fever."

That voice…that raspy tenor that he knew so well – that he had grown to adore so unwaveringly over the years – was right _there_, prickling at the hinge of his jaw. Before he could control himself there were tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, spilling hotly down his temples to disappear into his hairline and threadbare pillowcase. He did not even have the time to feel ashamed of the tidal wave of emotions that crashed over him before a solid, reassuring body edged down beside his own on the too-firm mattress, bony fingers curling about his chin as burning lips, soft as daisy petals, pressed affectionately against his left cheek, wrenching more of those tears from his eyes as soft gasps escaped Shion's lips.

"N-Nezumi-"

"Shhh…you need to rest. I'll take care of everything…just sleep."

Panic flared once more as Shion envisioned the fledgling child resting somewhere in that house unaccompanied and struggled to combat the grip.

"But…the baby-"

"Shion!"

That grip pressed more tenaciously, locking his shoulders and head to the mattress in a authoritative, yet calm fashion. A callused thumb rubbed soothing circles against his left cheekbone, soft words puffing against his neck at the apparent distress.

"Shion…I told you that I will take care of everything. Don't you trust me?"

Those lips brushed softly against his chin as the words continued.

"The child is on his cot, _sleeping_, just as you should be…so stop worrying so much."

More scorching tears trickled from the corners of Shion's garnet eyes, the dampness smeared in minor rings by that thumb against his cheek. His heart clenched tightly within his chest at the sudden presence of this man…this figure who had, until that moment, been merely a shadow within the dark recesses of his reveries and fantasies since the minute he had strode away on that hill practically nine months prior. His mind was having a problematic time processing the abrupt transformation in proceedings – the hasty discontinuity from the ordinary, lackluster existence that he had been living until that moment.

Then Nezumi traced his searing lips across Shion's swollen, moist eyelids, sweeping them over his cinched brow, before pressing a steady kiss to the center of his forehead.

Shion shuddered a breath against the other's throat, tightening his grip on the sheets beneath him, as Nezumi tensed his fingers around a handful of his damp, snowy locks. Bumping his nose across the other's jaw, Shion knocked Nezumi's chin level with his own – wet, garnet eyes locked onto rich slate orbs a mere fraction of an inch above. Pale lips brushed cautiously against his own, as if feeling out the limitations to make sure that he would not be shoved away.

"Ne-Nezu-"

The dark-haired man captured his gasping mouth, intimately tracing out the dips and curves, until Shion finally grasped the presence of mind to respond, meeting every slick roll of the tongue, heart nearly exploding within his chest at the spark of sensation. He could nearly taste Nezumi's relief and delight, his own body shivering against the lankier man's, trapped in a situation that he never could have expected and was none the wiser of how to appropriately approach.

"Nezumi, I-"

"Shhh..." the other cut him off, sealing scorching lips over his own once more to silence the weak protest and misplaced guilt.

Nezumi drew back slowly, stilling his hands in white hair as his mouth settled over the bridge of a slight, pale nose. Shion could feel his cool palms frame his face, his long, slender fingers coasting gently along the smooth skin of his cheeks before coming to rest against his jawline.

"Shion...? You don't resent me, do you…?"

His words were whispered, barely audible over their heavy breathing and deafening heartbeats, but Shion caught them nonetheless, his stomach twisting at the anxiety that wrapped around each syllable. He allowed a shaking hand to trace down the other's spine and flatten against his tailbone through the thin fabric of a pair of borrowed sleeping pants, pressing their hard bodies together, as if trying to leech the anxiety out of him through touch alone.

"God, please stop, Nezumi. I could never..."

The fever seemed to take over as Shion leaned forward, pushing a wayward strand of black silk away from those grey eyes, fitting his lips softly to the other's in a motion that made his own chest clench. He felt before he heard Nezumi's breath snag, and he could not halt himself from dragging the backs of his hands over the other's soft sides, barely touching the milky flesh on their voyage. He found it wholly mesmerizing how that burning skin broke out into goose bumps, the trivial shiver that coursed through the generally passive body above him when he drew those same fingertips along the backs of his triceps before coming to rest them at Nezumi's elbows – cradling either side his own head.

Glancing upward, he noticed as Nezumi panned his vision downward, stroking his own fingertips lightly along the contours and planes of Shion's pale chest, as if really seeing it for the first time, lingering for only a moment at the mottled flesh of the serpentine scar. Shion's heartbeat thudded in his ears, pulse thumping hard against his throat, feeling his fever spike and desperation consumed him.

Nezumi's flesh was hot beneath his fingers – silky-smooth – and a dizzying spike of arousal seared through the white-haired teen as a scorching tongue flicked against a particularly sensitive spot behind his left ear. Shion gasped at the sudden tightness in his loins and shuddered as dexterous fingers traced the outline of his quickly filling hardness through the grungy comforter.

Nezumi's eyes were blistering with their heat and filled with a starvation that Shion could scarcely recognize when he opened them.

"You're back?

His answer was wrapped in a smile and filled with so much delight and affection that it nearly brought Shion to tears once more.

"I'm back…"

* * *

Stirring with a deep, jaw-popping yawn, Shion gently rubbed the sleep from his eyes before blinking away the fuzziness of slumber. Disappointment flooded his chest as he noticed the cold, empty spot on the bed beside him, wondering for an instant if the whole thing had, once more, been a dream. The events of that day had been nothing short of surreal, and he had to wonder briefly if maybe he might be going senselessly stupid.

It wasn't until he heard the soft giggles of a small child mingled with the husky laughs of his lover that the revelation washed over him: Nezumi was back…and he was there to stay.

He hastily enfolded the flimsy grey sheet about his bare, slender hips, vigilant not to trip over the ends as he crept quickly across the room. Flinging the door open, excess material gathered in his left fist, he sprinted down the hallway, heart racing a mile a minute as his bare feet padded over the tan carpeted floor. As he turned the corner that opened up into the simple living room, he stopped abruptly at the image that presented itself to him.

There, not ten feet away, knelt Nezumi, in a similar state of undress, bouncing the 10-month-old boy on his right knee. His lengthy, pale torso was turned away from Shion, the coarse keloid burn scars on his back displayed without shame or awkwardness. A shabby, rusty-colored blanket was swathed haphazardly around his own hips and pooled about his legs and feet, snug lines of muscle and bone rippling under the shadows cast by the hazy light of the stretched, taper candle on the coffee table beside him. His elbow-length black hair draped about his shoulder blades and swept past his collar bone in an elegant manner that furnished him a striking air of femininity, in spite of his obviously boyish frame.

But the image that startled Shion the most – that truly snatched his heart from the fortification of his ribcage as fresh tears flooded his eyes – were the stunning smiles that painted across both of their faces. A pale palm rose to cover Shion's gasping lips, adamant not to shatter this beautiful picture, lest he never again meet with the opportunity to witness it.

Elated tears spilled down his cheeks before he could contain them as he observed the two interact, so affected by the unforeseen bond the pair had so effortlessly forged in the few hours since Nezumi had arrived. Before he could even begin to think about collecting himself, he rushed into the room, closing the distance between them, and throwing his arms around that dazzling man from behind, pressing his naked chest to that pale back in a desperate attempt to be included in the beauty of the moment.

He felt the other's breath catch in surprise before a soft chuckle reached his ears.

"Did you sleep well?"

Nodding silently into that slightly freckled shoulder, Shion inhaled the scent – the remnants of their previous undertakings, united with the fresh scent of the child in Nezumi's arms, now pressed against his toned chest.

That pale figure turned around just enough to wrap his free arm around Shion's shoulders, tugging him into a three-way hug that brought them all nose to nose in a bizarre formation that evoked new, alarming feelings to well up in the white-haired teen's chest.

_This is home…_

Never had he even remotely imagined that something like this could have ever had a chance of working out, and here they all were – two teenagers and an infant on the living room floor – with so much love in the air around them that Shion could not help but feel as if maybe this, too, might all be some incredible dream.

But this time he knew better…


End file.
